nnys were still unsatisfied. My poor wife became the victim of their
fury. And every new light that science throws upon human life shews that
this _must_ be so. The old Greeks saw that unconscious evil-doing is
punished as well as that which is conscious. These poor unselfish women,
piling up their own supposed merit, at the expense of the character of
their tyrants, laid up a store of misery for their descendant, my
unhappy wife. Imagine the sort of training and tradition that she had to
contend with; her mother ignorant and supine, her father violent,
bigoted, almost brutal. Eleanor's nature was obscured and distorted by
it. Having inherited the finer and stronger qualities of her father's
race, with much of its violence, she was going through a struggle at the
time of our marriage: training, native vigour and nobility all embroiled
in a desperate civil war. It was too much. There is no doubt as to the
ultimate issue, but the struggle killed her. It is a common story: a
character militant which meets destruction in the struggle for life. The
past evil pursues and throttles the present good."

"This takes away the last consolation from women who have been forced to
submit to evil conditions," said Hadria.

"It is the truth," said the Professor. "The Erinnys are no mere fancy of
the Greek mind. They are symbols of an awful fact of life that no one
can afford to ignore."

"What insensate fools we all are!" Hadria exclaimed. "I mean women."

The Professor made no polite objection to the statement.

As they were wending their way towards the Red House, the Professor
reminded his companion of the old friendship that had existed between
them, ever since Hadria was a little girl. He had always cherished
towards her that sentiment of affectionate good-fellowship. She must
check him if he seemed to presume upon it, in seeking sympathy or
offering it. He watched her career with the deepest interest and
anxiety. He always believed that she would give some good gift to the
world. And he still believed it. Like the rest of us, she needed
sympathy at the right moment.

"We need to feel that there is someone who believes in us, in our good
faith, in our good will, one who will not judge according to outward
success or failure. Remember," he said, "that I have that unbounded
faith in you. Nothing can move it. Whatever happens and wherever you may
be led by the strange chances of life, don't forget the existence of one
old friend